I with nothing
but the luggage of hope
and moonbeams
inside my hands
must hunt on,
until my love's lonesome land
harbors the heels
of your heart.
Am not like
a summer cloud
that's white and shiny
adorning the motionless sky
I've been stolen
by a certain darkness
because you pass me
with sleeping eyes
I must hunt on,
Before your season departs
and leave a desert
on my field,
I must hunt on
Until my soil blends
with the roots of your love,
sumptuous the
harvest upon
our evergreen tree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem